Category Archives: Nature of God

Dear God: an overdue Email from ~burning woman~

Dear God,

I am not expecting you to reply to this email, in fact based on your modus operandi through these recent Earthian ages, I know you won’t.  So let me get right to the point.  There are still billions of people on this benighted world who not only believe in you, but who actually spend time praying to you hoping for some pathetic handout, crumbs from a rich God’s table.  I just heard from one of those hopefuls and it made me both deeply sad and extremely angry, that a God would thus feed himself upon the gullibility of a mentally defective species.  But then that is exactly why you made them that way, so they would worship you regardless of how you dealt with them.  The more you lie to them, the more you abuse them and confuse them, the more they will stick to you believing that you’re the lesser of evils in the eternal set-up of you versus your alter ego known in this Christian part of the world as Satan. 

suffering

Hope springs eternal in the human breast / Man never is, but always to be blessed: / The soul, uneasy and confined from home,  / Rests and expatiates in a life to come.   –Alexander Pope

So there you have it.  The whole house of cards you set up based on your dead-ends of faith, hope and love.  Man never is, but always to be.  Yet man is an inveterate gambler, and he’ll hope, he’ll beg, he’ll spend time and money, he’ll donate his life even, to your service and you will give him your eternal cold shoulder.  Do you and yours in your heaven get a lot of laughs from man’s pathetic behaviour?  No doubt you’re surrounded by Pharaohs, Kings and Queens, Emperors, Satraps and Despots, Dictators and Presidents, Generals, Conquerors, Great Counter-Revolutionaries, Bullionaires and Billionaires, Popes, Inquisitors and Crusaders, Jihadists and Reformers, in short all those elites who empowered and enriched themselves with the blood of the poor and the oppressed.  How you must find us amusing!

Of course you know me.  You know I don’t believe in you.  I have no use at all for any of your claims, either of supremacy or salvation.  But let’s not give anyone reading this the wrong idea: I know you exist.  I’m not so stupid as to spend my time writing this to non-existence.  But I want people to know what I know about you – not what I think about you, but what I know.  I know you are a powerless fake, a liar, a cheat and a coward, my dear God.  For millennia, you’ve been hiding behind monstrous lies erected by monstrous liars to promote yourself and inflate your ego.  During those times the earth has flowed with the blood of those who believed in you versus those who believed in you – that is not a misprint. 

As a psychopath you must find that extremely satisfactory.  Or you would find it deeply fulfilling if you didn’t know very well the only reason these puppets kill and die for you is because you force them to.  They are programmed by you to act thus.  That must irk, no?  Knowing that if these people had their freedom of reason they wouldn’t kill and die for you?  That they wouldn’t love you?  That they wouldn’t build mansions and cities to your name?  Well, that’s the price all abusers pay.  Their winnings are hollow, without substance.  They get worship and lip service from fear,  brainwashing or both and because it leaves them empty, they need more… and more.  Are you feeling hungry yet? 

When you kick started these Earthian civilizations you imposed a programming in their minds that ensured they’d never be free to choose whether to love you or not.  So until now all those civilizations were based on some kind of divine worship.  What could they do?  No choice in the matter, was there.  And it didn’t matter to you how they worshiped you, whether as natural spirits, wood, stone, silver and gold idols, or as some singular chimera.  In fact that’s what made the game so enjoyable.  The more different ways the numbnuts imagined you, the more they hated each other and the more blood was shed. 

And the game isn’t over, is it.  In these latter days you let them play with other idols, like democracy, communism, science, socialism, humanism, New Agey gobbledygook and even let them go hog-wild with your great pretend arch-enemy: money.  But you know I can see how you’re pulling it all back to yourself.  There’s billions of human and non-human lives that are about to be sacrificed, or going to sacrifice themselves, to the System in the coming years.  And that System, that Matrix, ultimately is the mask you hide behind.  It is you.  Billions of sacrificial victims whose blood you need in order to revitalize yourself after these last hundred or so years of dieting – oh you had the wars but they weren’t completely in your control – are about to turn this world into one vast bloody altar to you.  I know you’re not going to miss out on such a banquet.  It just wouldn’t be like you and if there is one entity in the universe that will never change its nature, it’s you.

bloody-religion

So, dear God, enjoy your coming bloodbath… and may you drown in it.  May the very last woman, or man, or child finally stand up, and give you that symbolic holy of holies… their carefully and deliberately extended middle finger.  You deserve it.  Meanwhile, go to Washington; to Mecca, to Jerusalem, to London, to Islamabad, to New Delhi, to Beijing, to Tokyo or Moscow or Paris and needle your henchmen to increase the blood flow in the Middle East, between each other or everywhere: does it matter as long as it flows?  Especially as long as women and children, weak, helpless, poor, old, homeless are bleeding and dying?  You’ve already given them the weaponry, the poisons, the insane greed, the madness of power, so motivate them or are you waiting for goddess Killary/Isis to take over the reins of the Empire for the nukes to start flying?  Are you that weak?  Truly, I expected more. You disappoint me.

Sincerely,
~burning woman~ 

 

I Wonder – an essay

                          I Wonder
                  [thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

       I wonder how many people on this world reach a point of total exhaustion from all the spinning around; all the questioning; all the struggling; all the spending; even all the merry making.  How many wish to stop in the middle of the madness and ask: Why? 
     Why am I doing this?  I’ve done this over and over.  What’s the point? 
      It would seem there does not need to be a point.  Life on earth is like riding the escalator.  If you are on the up side, you move up and if on the down side, you move down — just like everybody else around you.  No point – it’s just the escalator doing its thing and you’re on it.
It’s not so easy to get off the earth escalator, is it.  Even if you stop, you still move, up or down, and so does everything else around you.  You feel helpless to do anything about it.  It’s enough to make one have flying dreams.  To see oneself off the escalator, looking down but no longer bound to its trajectory. 
      There must come a time when one says, “Enough already!”  In “real” time, we don’t ride escalators just for the fun of it, nor do we remain on them.  We use them to get between floors, between “dimensions”, and each floor has something different to offer.  On earth, it’s just one floor and two escalators, one really narrow one that takes you up you don’t know where and that’s scary so very few take it,  and a really wide one that moves down into the darkness – only most riders don’t see that as darkness – they just think it’s the good life club or the bargain basement.  Only its just more darkness.  That’s the Matrix.
     Today I realize more than at any other time that I’m tired of the escalator.  Of the pointlessness of it all.  The quest for things that die.  The quest to satisfy a body that can’t even keep itself going – to keep a defective piece of equipment functioning long past it’s shelf-life.
I want off.  I don’t think that even the upward moving one will take me where I want to go (and do I really know where that is?).  I don’t trust escalators – somehow they’re too easy.  Today, there’s a part of me that wants wings, the power to go wherever I wish without dependency to pre-established paths.  That really wants to fly! 
      There is a growing consensus among Earthians that you can “intent” things; that you can attract things to yourself by thinking positively about them.  Some kind of “attraction” energy.  I wish that were true of all things, not just personal ones!  I have spent a lifetime in “intent” to bring about good things for earth.  I didn’t want them for me, but for the world.
Intent must be a weak force: what I intended for others, I got for me instead.  I don’t see a lot of it having gone out into the world to make it a better place.  So now, having received all the good things I didn’t even want – and certainly didn’t need – things I intended for “YOU” to have, I have nothing left to do here.
     Ah yes, there is one thing left I’d fall for today (I must be soft in the head – but that’s the problem with desire) — I want someone, OK, let’s admit it, I want “God” to come to me and say, “I love you and I’ll take care of everything from now on,” and I want to just give up and reply: “I’m yours, no reservation.”  I would utter Chief Joseph’s famous words: “I shall fight no more forever.”
     Can I do that?  After all I’ve done?  All I’ve stated regarding my distrust of God?  All my anger at global injustice that I blamed on Him and that still rages on?  I’ve trusted Him to be with me and gave Him my entire life on two occasions… and He abandoned me when I needed Him most.
Can I fall for that again?  Has He changed, or have I?
(NOTE: When I say “YOU” below, I mean the world, not an individual person.)
     Was it Him who created the escalator in the first place?  You’ll say to me, “Yeah, well ask Him, don’t ask us.”  But I think that God’s “voice” is humanity.  “YOU” speak for God.  I don’t care about the feel good stuff you say about Him, but YOU are God for me. 
     The only way I’ll ever really see God is by looking at YOU.  The only way I’ll ever know God is by observing YOU.  Can I trust YOU?  Can I give myself to YOU?  If I come to you as just another nameless and faceless of the tens of thousands you kill each day, how much compassion can I expect from YOU?  Better yet, if I come from the “wrong” part of the world, or if I wear the “wrong” type of dress, or the “wrong” skin colour, or speak the “wrong” language, will you see me as just another YOU?
     I think I know the answer.  And that is why I’m tired.  Why I think more and more about a home that is far, far away from “YOU.”

Thoughts about Dying (an essay)

 

Thoughts about Dying – from   ~burning woman~  by Sha’Tara

           Yeah, I’ve thought about dying.  In fact, I’ve thought about dying lots of times.  Before I began to think about dying in English, I used to think about dying in French.  Somewhere in between, when I worked with Central American refugees escaping from the White House’s Assassin–in-Chief Ronald Reagan whose CIA contras specialized in capturing, torturing and murdering unarmed Guatemalan native campesinos, I learned a bit of useful Spanish, and then I thought about dying in Spanish.  I learned to sing Guantanamera in Spanish and sang it as close as I could to the original as sung by The Sandpipers, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jm1anurhbeg ) then I learned the English translation.  “My words are like a wounded fawn seeking refuge in the forest… Before I die I want to share these words of my soul…” 

          When I was little I thought about dying because I was afraid of it.  I knew, even then, that I was born to die.  I remembered a previous life in which I had died painfully and violently; when I had spent a lot of time in a cold, dank prison, thinking about dying; about how nice it would be to just go to sleep finally one night and never wake up.  When you are being tortured, you think about dying.  Dying is a gift the gods are very reticent to grant you because, I suppose, the gods invented suffering and death and they feel cheated if you arrive at the one without fully experiencing the other.  They get off on man’s pain and suffering, you see.

          I still think about death a lot.  I think of it as the bottomless, endless topic.  But I no longer think of death as an escape from reality.  I’m experienced now, and I remember that death was never an escape.  I learned that whatever I was; whatever I’d become; passed with me through those black doors.  Whatever I was, that was inescapable reality. 

          I cannot escape what I am. So when I think about dying now, I have to remember this simple lesson and prepare myself for death accordingly.  It’s no different than planning a very, very serious trip.  It could even be a journey if I beat the odds this time around and I don’t find myself right back here with only a few months, or years of interim fogginess of mind.  Death is funny that way; it likes you to go through its doors over and over.  Death has a magnificent set of ebony black matte revolving doors and he’s unduly proud of them.  

          How did Death design his doors?  I’ll try to make a long story short.  Think of all the doors of the world designed to keep something, or someone, from escaping.   Think prison doors, and how inventive, clever and imaginative man has been in designing prison doors to create a sense of utter hopelessness behind those doors.  Take every design of every prison door and put that into one set of massive doors.  Pretty impressive.  It’s psychological.  You’re supposed to think; to believe; that when you cross that threshold you’ll never get out again.  So you lose your mind; you go into a coma; you remember nothing when your time’s up and you are set “free” for another round at the wheel.  They wipe your memory so you won’t remember.  The reason is simple: they want you to die all over again as if it was the very first and only time. 

          They want you to live in an inescapable fear of death.  Those who fear death are easily manipulated into unthinkable anti-social acts against anyone they believe can rob them of life.  Fear of death is a belief in serious limitation: one life, then nothing.  Or for a dwindling number, one life then a judgment by a god of terror.  Some choice.  I remember that god of terror.  He was even more frightening than Death because he held those eternal chains that would keep you in a burning hell forever.  I remember doing the math on my chances at an eternity in heaven instead of hell: the odds weren’t good.   And I remember thinking also, how can I be sure that an eternity in heaven with a psychopathic god will be better than one in hell?  I thought, it probably compares to voting Republican or Democrat.  Liberal or Conservative.  The lesser of evils is still evil.

          Then I grew up some.  I learned some tricks on how to access deep memory; the part they can’t wipe out before they send you back.  The data wasn’t great and lots of it is corrupted, but there was enough to construct some memories; to remember.  From delving into those remains of past lives I re-constructed some of them and learned Death’s great secret; that it isn’t an end, nor is it a passage into a pre-determined eternity of bliss or the most terrible of eternal pain.  It was a revolving door and if I came to that door again I could hold some seriously powerful bargaining chips – if I did the work that is.

          So I’ve been thinking about death a whole lot more since the day I exposed its secret.  When I think about death now, I do it while looking at this world.  I think of all the death that accompanies what passes for life here and the termination of a body allowing me to push through those revolving doors in self-empowered mode isn’t an issue anymore.  The way I look at it now is, I’m living a free life in sudden death overtime.   

          Here’s how John Donne put it:

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones,
and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

 

Genesis – a Different Perspective

It is claimed, probably correctly, that the Christian Bible remains the most popular book in the world, the most purchased, the most read, in its manifold versions and interpretations.  That being the case, the book itself deserves to be read, and its contents analyzed and understood.  Any book whose contents have the power to control so much of man’s thinking and subsequent acts should not be simply relegated to the dustbin of irrelevant myth.  Is it a tool… or a weapon of mass distraction leading to mass destruction?
           In the movie, “Contact” (based on the book of same name by Carl Sagan) it is claimed that over 90% of the planet’s population “believes in God” in some way or other.  That argument was used to prevent atheist Ellie Arroway from participating in the first attempted flight in the alien-designed machine.
          Most people who believe in God “just do it” and don’t think about it.  In fact thinking about it is strongly discouraged because it inevitably leads to doubt.  In the Catholic Church, doubt is one of the deadly sins!  I wrote the following from my own path of simple unquestioning faith in the Christian deity, to doubt, and to the eventual freedom among the wide-open vistas of scepticism.
             I never argue the existence of God: He exists in the minds of people, therefore He exists.  Man creates his gods and installs them on thrones from which they rule him with an iron fist.  History provides incontrovertible evidence of that fact.   What I do discuss; what I can discuss; is the nature of God, and the Bible is the one book that makes the claim to reveal that nature to mankind, so the Bible needs to be perused with a mental find-tooth comb.  Have a look at this bit of discussion in the nature of man’s number one divinity.

Genesis – a Different Perspective
           [a short story by Sha’Tara]

          The old man inclined his hoary head to Reuben as they sat on the old and cold cement bench near the fountain. It was quiet enough, this far from the main streets, and the fountain had ceased functioning years ago. It’s basin was filling with moldy detritus partially covered with falling leaves. A robin, his head cocked much like the old man, was worm-listening and farther off under a spreading ivy clinging to a wild thorn, a towhee hopped and scratched as if his very life depended on the action.   Well, maybe it did.

Reuben had helped the old man up after he’d fallen while trying to step over a shifted paving stone. Then he’d taken him to an outdoor café and bought him a bagel and coffee.   They had talked. Reuben, in his third year of classic Bible studies and still undecided about pursuing a career as a religious, had innocently answered the old man’s questions.

          “So, three years of religious studies and no definite idea what you want to do with that knowledge? Ah the youth of today, to have such latitude. Back when, you had to know what you were going to do by the time you were sixteen at the very least. Then you pursued that one goal, and found your own means of support if you wanted to continue on to university. Different times…” and the old man sighed. “Thank you for the bagel and the coffee. I haven’t had such a treat in a long time. Retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, my friend. May I call you my friend without offending?”

          “Certainly sir. I’d like to be considered a friend. What should I call you then?”

          “Friend is good. Very good.   But I should be going. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysitting an old man on a late Friday afternoon, yes?”

          “Actually, I am enjoying this. It’s different. I find my mind going off in an uncharted path. I am even thinking, if you were up to it, of asking you some life questions.   All those years, all those experiences.   Perhaps you know things I could benefit from, especially if I do enter some kind of ministry. How can someone as young as I assume he could counsel people with real problems?”

          So they began to talk and after a while the old man needed to move, so they walked slowly until they reached the quiet of the old park with the dead fountain.   The old man needed to sit again, so they sat on the dirty old cement bench and Reuben, face bent to look at his feet stepping on tufts of unkept grass, wondered what he was doing, why he was encouraging this old man. What’s with me? he thought.

          The old man suddenly put his hand on Reuben’s arm. “So you studied the Bible all these years, yes?”

          “Yes, the Bible, religious history, particularly Christian; and realms of interpretations, theological arguments, theories, and dogma. But the more I read, the more I study, the more I learn, the more uncomfortable I become; the more uncertain. I feel that my zeal has been scattered to the winds, if you know what I mean. It’s not as clear now. God used to “talk” to me in a sense, you know? But not for a long time now. Nothing.   My counsellor calls it the dark night of the soul but with all due respect, I’m not so sure. I don’t think it would be productive for God to keep those who want to serve him, in mind darkness, in confusion and doubt, not this long. There should have been a resolve. Well, there you have it, friend: no resolve.”

          “I’d like to tell you something,” said the old man with a twinkle, “and I guarantee that it’s something you have not come across in any of your books, except perhaps your Bible, but then, you were raised in such careful exegesis that even though it was right under your nose all those years, you never saw it. Of course you’re not meant to see it. This Biblical “slip” if you will, would devastate much of the Earth’s religions, even non-Christian ones.”

          A part of Reuben wanted to leave at that moment. In his current state of doubt, any story casting further doubts on what he so fervently wanted to believe, was not what he wanted. In fact, he had hoped that in some mysterious way, this old man was an angel sent from God to re-affirm his flagging faith.   He remained quiet while the old man turned to the sky and a soft smile played over the old wrinkled face. Now Reuben began to think that maybe the old man was Satan, or a demon, having come into his life at a weak moment intent on tormenting him.

          “I believe in Jesus Christ as my Lord and saviour,” he said, turning to the old man, “and nothing you say can change that.”

          “Oh, I already knew that, and my intent is not to change what you believe.   But perhaps what I have to say to you can help you understand why you believe what you believe and why you have doubts. After all, in the realm of faith all things are possible, since it is not dependent on objective proof. Whatever evidence I give you, you can still go on believing, even if it no longer makes any sense. Faith does not have to make sense, but do realize that is why it so often becomes the hideout or stronghold of the fanatic.”

          “Are you saying that by believing as I do, I’m a fanatic?”

          “Oh no, not at all. I’m just showing you the possibility, a door that remains always open to any individual who believes by faith. Just a bit of caution, if you will. You see Reuben, faith people always believe they are right and anyone else who believes differently has to be wrong; and they fear logic that can demonstrate their faith to be in error. That’s what makes a fanatic.”  

          “By that criteria, I’m a fanatic then…”

          “You said it and I have to agree. I just wanted you to see it, and give you a chance to end this discussion. In your mind at the moment, your faith is the truth and any other truth that contradicts that must be a lie. I didn’t want you to think I would be expounding a lie to you by “interpreting” some key passages of your Bible in a way quite opposite to what you have been taught.”

          Silence fell between the two men. The old man looked at the tree tops around the park as they cast their elongated shadows in the late afternoon. Reuben’s mind was in a complete turmoil. He desperately wanted two opposite things. One: run away from this stranger, two: hear his story. He finally opted to hear the old man’s interpretation.

          “I’m a bit nervous about listening, but I think my faith needs testing. If I can’t listen to you, what’s it good for?”

          “I thought that’s what you would decide. So let me go into my story then. I assume you are very familiar with the book of Genesis, particularly the first couple of chapters?”

          “Well, of course.”

          “What do you make of it?”

          “I don’t understand the question. What do I make of what?”

          “The story. What do you think of the story?”

          “Oh, I don’t know that it matters much, whether it’s literal or allegorical.   But I do believe that man is created, and that man sinned and was punished for that by being cast out of the presence of God. I also believe that God promised man that he would be sent a redeemer in time; one who would conquer the Evil One and set man free.”

          “Yes, so you accept the classic interpretation then?”

          “Yes I do. It makes sense in relation to the rest of the Bible, especially to the conclusion in the New Testament.

          “Yes, of course it makes sense. It has too.   One part cannot contradict another, correct?”

          “Correct.”

          “But Reuben, did you ever notice the incredible discrepancy in the first two chapters of the Bible? In the creation story?”

          “What discrepancy?”

          “Chapter one, you have the “six days” of creation by God. Everything is done in an orderly fashion, and all is given a point. It’s simple and easy to follow. Finally man and woman are created and sent into the earth to be fruitful, multiply and rule over it. And then this Creator is satisfied with his work and he takes a much deserved rest from a perfect work that, without interference, would not need any further input.   So far, so good, yes?”

          “To that point yes. But Satan was lurking there waiting his chance to disrupt, perhaps destroy, this beautiful creation.”

          “Ah yes, Satan. But aren’t we jumping the gun here? What happens after God decides to rest from his creating? Let’s look carefully at what comes next.  

          “Genesis, chapter two, verse 4 appears to be a re-telling of the events in chapter 1, but if you read even casually, you are struck by the fact that the re-telling has nothing to do with the original story. This is where it gets really interesting, and crucial, as far as understanding what happened to man, to the earth, and remains to curse the race and its planet to this day. Notice that “God” (the Creator of Genesis one) has now been morphed into a different divinity called “the LORD God” by the writer. Notice that the chronology of creation here is completely skewed. The creation of the “heavens and earth” are glossed over and the story teller focuses on the conditions on the earth where nothing was growing yet. He goes on to say that God created man to “work the ground” when there were as yet no plants on it. Yet immediately we are told that the LORD God “had planted a garden in the east, in Eden.”   There he placed the man, and only now does he make trees come out of the ground, and etc. Now Reuben, if any writer today botched the beginning of a story as bad as this, his only chance to be published would be by vanity press!   You’ll remember that the rest of that chapter is a mapping lesson describing the location of Eden, man being told to take care of the garden, being told what he could and could not eat, and the dire consequences of disobedience, man naming the creatures and looking for a mate among the animals (an interesting point in itself); God making a female companion for him and all’s well that ends well until Genesis chapter 3.

          “Enter the crafty serpent. He interestingly does not tempt Adam, but Eve. You will remember that the command not to eat of the fruit of the trees was given to Adam before Eve was created. So we must assume that Adam had passed on the warning to Eve and she would have some idea that picking fruit of knowledge, or of life, was a bad thing.   We must also assume that innocent Eve would not have a clue as to what a bad thing was as opposed to a good thing.   Remember, they had no concept of right and wrong since officially, at that point, they had no need of a conscience.   But Eve did evil anyway, and was held accountable, to be punished by additional pain, suffering and death, even though she would have no concept of what “dying” would mean. I assume you pondered these points and satisfied yourself that there was no problem with the account?”

          “It never seemed that important to me. What is important is that man became a sinner and suffered the consequences of his disobedience to God.”

          “Ah, but it wasn’t “man” technically, who disobeyed now, was it? Eve did it first, Eve whom God didn’t warn about disobedience, who only had Adam’s word for it. Could we assume that Eve might have thought Adam was putting her on, taking advantage of her ignorance, since he was the one who spoke to God, not her? Could we assume that she wanted to test Adam’s warning? Remember, this young woman had never seen “evil” – had no understanding of sin and consequences; had never been sick or physically inconvenienced; would not know what dying meant. Why would eating from one tree be different than eating from another?   How could she really know until she tried it? Isn’t that the point – to experience life rather than always taking someone else’s advice?

          “Look at us today: we do horrible things, knowing both, the curse and results.   We kill, knowing that murder is wrong and we inflict great mental and physical pain on each other knowing how it feels. Yet we do it. So why this great need to blame innocent Eve for doing something that could not mean anything serious to her?”

          “That’s why I think the story is allegorical. It is not a historical fact, just a kind of deus ex machina to explain why things are the way they are today.”

          “Well now, you’re thinking, you’re thinking. But before we get carried away with the allegory if such it is, let’s backtrack a bit. Why do you suppose the writer changed from “God” as a generic creator, to a specific “LORD God” in the second account?”

          “Usage? Different writer, different approach?”

          “That different? The two accounts have barely anything in common, Reuben, and you should see that now.   What if I told you that “God” in chapter one is indeed the original creator, and that the LORD God in chapter two verse 4 and following, is a different entity? It is assumed that the LORD God of Genesis is the subsequent Yahweh, the God of the Hebrews who then became the God of the Jews, the Christians and the Muslims. Is that so?”

          “Yes, of course.”

          “OK, let me plunge right in: I did much research and deep thinking about this Biblical problem; the credibility of the Edenic LORD God as original creator. It doesn’t add up. The original creation happened long, long, before the LORD God shows up; long before there is any Eden, or any mapping of earth going on, any reason to describe any particular place on earth as special. The original creation was self-sustaining, innocent and totally violence-free. Everything roamed everywhere freely and there was no enmity between individuals or species.   Don’t you get that feeling when you read Genesis one? Isn’t it true that the original Creator gave plants for food to all the creatures that moved on the ground, in the seas, in the air? Isn’t it important to note that there was no bloodshed in the original creation? Why is that?   Isn’t it because shedding blood is inherently evil because it engenders fear, then causes pain and death? Isn’t it because once such a pattern establishes itself on a world, that world is ultimately doomed?  

          “What other differences can you see here? Look at the creation of man and woman: together and equal, and sent freely into the world to live without fear, without qualms. The only commands, and believe me they were not onerous, was to be fruitful and multiply. Yes, likely there would be natural death, though that is still a moot point with me, but such a passing would not entail fear because there would be no pain and it would be part of the natural cycle to be experienced. Death would not have been put forward as a punishment.   See? Only a truly sociopathic creature would use death as a threat and punishment for any so-called disobedience.

          “So, who is the LORD God? That’s very easy to see now. It’s the same entity as the fake one it told man was called Satan disguised as a serpent.   But it was the LORD God, or some associate, who entered into that disguise and it was meant to create fear in the newly “created” sentient beings. It was that LORD God entity who brought evil: violence, bloodshed and fear into this world where none of those things had existed beforehand – and mark this: it needed an intelligent, sentient, self-aware being, someone who could legally be blamed for doing evil, for sinning.      

          “That entity did not create man. Man, wild man, already existed and populated much of the planet in small, self-sufficient groups in peaceful coexistence with others. What the LORD God did was clone new creatures, it’s own creatures, from existing wild man DNA and its own, to make them like him and bind them to himself.   He established rules and regulations, imposed Draconian laws, whereby he hoped to control his creatures and ensure they would serve him forever, whatever happened. And he invented all the tales, including the promise of a redeemer in some never-never future (one which is still being waited for, either as a first or second coming by the way) so that man would toil, fight and die and no matter which side he took, he would always be on the side of that same LORD God.   There would be no escape in the two-party system of God and Satan.

          “You know Reuben, the writer George Orwell may have figured out the eventual outcome of a world violently divided between dual and dueling interchangeable forces of good and evil, but mark my words, it was the LORD God of Genesis who invented the concept and tested it on his human clones.”

          By then the sun had set and Reuben sat with his eyes closed watching the images flowing through his mind. It was a lot to digest, certainly, but there was sense to it all. And surprisingly, he felt better than he had in months.   Something, some sort of weight, had been lifted by this alternative viewpoint. There was that wonderful “What if”” now tantalizing him, something new and tangible to work with, something that didn’t have the dry and predictable taste of his Biblical studies. He even smiled as he turned to this new friend.

          “I think it’s time we found a place to eat. I need a beer. Do you drink beer, Friend?”

          “Well, I used to long ago. But I haven’t had the pleasure in some time. I can’t afford to eat out, so I’m afraid I’ll have to decline and move along home.”

          “Ah, you assume I’m a poor university student who has barely the means to buy his books and find lodging in a garret, is that it?” he said laughing.

          “Something like that. No, all joking aside, it’s time for me to go. I gave you something fresh to ponder. Now you can unravel the tale from your own perspective and not from a thousand would-be hair-splitting “interpreters” of the Bible. Enjoy yourself, Reuben.”

          Reuben thought the voice sounded younger. He looked at his friend and saw that he indeed looked much younger, and there was more of a twinkle in a face which, though darkened by the fading light, he saw didn’t show any wrinkles. When his friend stood up, he was no longer tottering, but standing tall, straight, a powerful body a bit taller than himself. He thought he detected a light coming from the man beside him as his friend took his hand in his and pressed firmly.

          “You’ll be alright Reuben. You won’t sell yourself short and you will do much good on this world.  I bless you.  The man pulled back, and disappeared from view as he seemed to lift from the ground. Reuben stood alone and a bit shocked for a moment, but no longer doubting. This, he thought, was good. And he felt very hungry and thirsty for that beer.

 

He said his Name was Jack – a short story

So, I spent the day pondering life once more.  I don’t know how far I got on that particular road today, but at the end it seems fitting to post this little story. 

                                             He said his Name was Jack
                                               [a short story by   ~ Sha’Tara ~   ]

It was a hot and dry day up near the end of the canyon when my old half-ton blew the rear driver side tire. Fortunately I was taking it easy on the old thing as the going had been mostly uphill, something the old crankcase didn’t like much, so after a bit of swerving to gain control in the hard packed wash-board gravelly surface, I was able to pull up beside the road, on a dry patch of sandy dried mud.

I got out to assess my situation. I had no food and no drinking water Hadn’t thought of that since I was only going a couple of hundred miles.  An inaccessible half mile below me the river glistened mockingly in the noon day sun.  All around was dead silence except for a few crickets telling each other to shut up, and heat waves made everything shimmer.  The scent of scrub pine and sage brush filled the air and under almost any other condition that would have been enough to give me complete pleasure.   At that moment though, and perhaps understandingly, I failed to appreciate nature’s simple offering.

 There wasn’t much traffic in those days, as the conditions of the highway were still quite primitive so I wasn’t expecting help anytime soon. I went to the back and looked with some apprehension at the dried cake of mud that hid the spare hanging under the box.  I found a rusty tire iron behind the torn seat, some cracked gloves and a short carpenter’s pry bar and went to work loosening and dropping the spare.

 After some time it came loose and I was able to slide the lifter chain off and drag the spare out. Sure enough, it was as flat as flat can be.  Who thinks of making sure spares are kept up?  Wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I couldn’t find any sort of jack and looking up or down the surrounding countryside quickly told me that I wouldn’t find anything resembling a suitable lever to lift the truck.  Plenty of large rocks to use as fulcrums and supports, but nothing resembling a useful pole.

Well, what to do? I scanned both sides of the road for any sort of habitation and didn’t see anything.  Only one thing left to do: start walking.  I knew there was nothing behind me, so I decided it was best to head north, into the unknown.  At least this way there would exist the possibility of some sort of home or homestead or a highway maintenance yard showing up.

 Being eighteen at the time and having been raised on a homestead, my survivor mentality was pretty well honed and possessed of a bit of matching philosophy. The one thing I was sure of, I would never give in to the problem.  I knew by reasoning based on certain experiences, that life entails problems, that problems require solutions and that these solutions are always available, one way or the other, though none of that alters reality.  Going with the flow is not always the easiest path but it usually is the wisest.

As I trudged along I became very thirsty. The river surface down below continued to mock my thirst so I looked for berries but the only thing I saw were bunches of dangling blue elderberries.  Bird feed at best and not ripe in any case.  Too early in the season for anything else.  As I walked on uphill, each curve showing more endless climb, my feet began to throb in the heavy work boots so I stopped by a rounded rock to sit and loosen the laces.  A dull ache in my head made me want to stretch out by the side of the road and sleep, which is exactly what I did.  I didn’t feel like walking any longer.

 That I lay in dusty sand would not matter much to my dirty white tee shirt or my tattered greasy blue jeans nor to my over-length hair which was several days in need of a serious wash and many weeks in need of cutting. At least there were no flies and sleep came easy despite the choking heat.

That’s when I had the dream that would puzzle, haunt, thrill and bother me for the rest of my life. How could a dream manifest in reality?  How could events in a dream become events in real life which changed not only my mind, but my physical reality as well?  These were, and remain, unanswerable questions, of course.   So let me recap the events instead of getting into the mind-twisting impossibilities remembering always brings up.

I had just fallen asleep (at least it seemed so) when someone called my name and said, Hey Levi, get up. It’s time to go. The name Levi was given to me as a joke after I was stupid enough the mention that I’d wanted to be a priest in my Catholic school days, and there happened to be a defrocked Bible thumper in our logging crew who yelled, “Levi!” My real name is Logan Learned which was also quite entertaining in my school years: “Hey, what have you Learned today?” Laughter.  But now, Levi?  I had to ask why.  Matt, the ex-Bible guy said, “Don’t you know about Levi in the Old testament?  The priesthood of the Levites?

“Afraid not, never read the Old Testament. Only know the Catholic catechism and some bits and pieces of the gospels.”

 Instead of commenting further, he just laughed and the rest joined in, including me. Nothing wrong with Levi, so I became Levi the Levite to my logging crew.  So now I was, in a sense, a priest.  I’m sure my Catholic confessors would not have taken it so lightly, but that didn’t matter to me; I hadn’t been to church in several years and had no intention of ever returning.  Bad memories best left behind, along with my upbringing.  The more baggage you drag along with you, the more your life is stifled and I had too much to live for to let that happen.

I opened my eyes and I wasn’t dreaming. An obviously native man, dressed in a western shirt, clean faded jeans and cowboy boots, was standing over me, offering me his hand.  I took it and he held me firmly as I stood up.  He handed me a bottle of cold water which I gladly took.  Half was gone before I felt sated and thought that maybe that was all the water he had.  He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

 He must have sensed my concern for his precious water and replied as if I’d asked:

“Lots of water here Levi. Lots.  Don’t you worry about that.”

 “You know my nickname, how come?”

 “It’s the name you go by now, isn’t it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Okay then. Mine is Jack.”

 “Okay, fine. Thanks for the water, Jack.  I was parched.”

 “Yeah, I know. Maybe we should walk back to your truck now, or would you like some food first?”

 Out of a growing sense of curiosity I looked around. Except for “Jack” nothing had changed.  The sun hadn’t even moved; the heat was just as intense and I saw no food, nor did “Jack” carry any kind of pack.  He wasn’t even holding the water bottle anymore.

“I could use some food, Jack, if you have something without meat or fish, I’m vegetarian and I get sick on meat or fish.”

 From what appeared to be nowhere (sorry about the oxymoron!) he produced a fresh sandwich, loaded with vegetables and cheese. I took it with expressed gratitude and ate it in four bites.  It tasted like “more” and sure enough, Jack produced another one, just as delicious.

“Ok, I’m really curious now Jack. Where did this food come from?”

 “You people always ask these same small questions. Where do you think it comes from?”

 “I have no idea, that’s why I asked.”

 “Ever heard of the continuum, Levi?”

 “The what?”

 “The continuum. You know, what your religions call eternity?  What some people call heaven?  What science calls the abstract concept of infinity with that lazy eight symbol (8)?  If you’ve read the Bible you would know that the Hebrew God fed them what is called “manna from heaven” while they lived in the desert.  Connect with your nickname and look into your memories, Levi, third son of Jacob, founder of the Levite tribe.  Can you see anything there?”

“Afraid I can’t, Jack. Are you telling me that you pulled that water and food out of nothing, like God dropping food from heaven on the Hebrews?”

 “Actually at that point in history we should refer to them as Israelites rather than Hebrews. But yes, why not?  But not out of nothing as you think.  Out of another reality.  We’re always part of the continuum and it’s what feeds the material order.  Without this bleed through of energy, these worlds, your reality, could not exist.  All it takes is for an intelligent mind to image or invent material/physical reality from an endless supply of free energy we call the continuum.  It’s really very simple if you think about it.”

 “Well Jack, I am thinking about it and the more I think about it, the less sense it makes to me. This is too much like fantasy; science fiction, a fairy tale.  If it was that easy everybody would be doing it; everybody would have her or his way and you know what?  It would spell utter chaos, that’s what.”

“They realized this long ago when intelligent beings discovered the ability of manifestation; when the material order came into being and problems simultaneously appeared, as you were so quick to perceive. So “they” – the ones who discovered this ability decided to put a block on manifestation.  Only one would be allowed to manifest reality, that was their solution.  Basically “They” created the concept of “God”and through the eons the concept remained.  “God” gets to decide what is, what isn’t; when it begins; when it ends and all the reasons for it are also God’s reasons, no one else’s.  At least that’s the theory.”

 “Is God accountable to no one then?”

 “Oh yes, God is accountable, but only to his peers; to the “They” who started it all. And also, God isn’t always the same person on the divine throne.  They hold periodic elections and take turns running things.  Hence why you discover “jumps” and “bumps” – sudden bursts – or what your scientist love to call “big bangs” in the process of creation or material expansion and destruction.”

“This is very interesting Jack, but how do you know all of this for a fact? Didn’t you just say it was a theory?”

 “We go by what works, see? You and I, we’re the same with one specific difference: I’m from the other side of the continuum, you’re on this side.  I was on this side long ago, but I, shall we say, translated to the other side gradually, over many incarnations.  It began with a glimpse of the continuum, what you might call a near death experience.  Only it wasn’t near but fatal and total.  That was my first awareness of how much freedom there is in living without a body.  After being given a chance to look around, someone simply sent me back.  I had fallen and broken my neck.  They fixed me up, good as new and I was left with a permanent question mark that became a single-minded focused quest.  I would find this place I’d glimpsed and live there.”

“Then there should be literally billions of people like you out here now!”

 “Not really. You have to understand how the thing works if you want to, say, commute from the outside to the inside.  From the wholly non-material to the material.  After my return I began to earnestly study shamanism, witchcraft, the concepts hinted at by every established religion on this world.  I contemplated anything to do with the so-called after-life.  I discovered that only those who were able to pass through with their material bodies were said to be empowered to return and manifest back in the physical.  So I cheated: I found the trick that allowed me to slip out of this realm into the other with my material body.  Oh, it was immediately changed, transformed if you will, but it wasn’t killed.  There’s no termination over there, see?  Once you’re in, you’re in.  Then it’s up to you to make it work.  Luckily for me, bodies don’t need to be fed or even exercised over there.  They are what you make them to be and they remain that way until you change them.  You couldn’t begin imagine the different “things” I’ve been since I translated.”

 “Time out, Jack, hey? I can’t absorb all this stuff.  Besides, I’m still not convinced you are what you claim to be.  You could be an illusionist; some sort of con artist and my question remains: how do you know about this theory of yours regarding God?”

“Of course, I could be an impostor. Not impossible but I never asked you to trust me, did I?  But think on this, see if it rings a bell or two:  “You were thirsty and I gave you water to drink; you were hungry and I fed you.”

 “You’re quoting the gospels. You sure don’t look like him!”

 “Like whom, Levi Logan Learned?”

“You know who I mean, and I am really confused now.”

 “Excellent. It’s good to be confused on materiality.  Confusion and doubt prevent dogmatism which is astigmatism of the soul, a blurring which prevents clear understanding and appreciation of what actually is.”

“Ok, so there is a God? Or is that only your theory about the “Ruler” of materiality?  Answer me that!”

 “I can’t answer the God question simply because no matter how it is answered it will satisfy no one. Your people are too dogmatic to allow free information to flow through their minds unimpeded by belief systems, you see.  Even you, not knowing whether to believe or not to believe; not knowing if you’re an atheist, a theist, deist or anti-theist, won’t let the God question flow unchallenged.  For you it’s just too big a question fraught with too much emotion to be allowed its freedom to answer itself.

Now listen to this. “There is a God” is the truism that proves there is no such a being as God.  God, as religion preaches and teaches, is categorically impossible.  But according to all I have seen, studied, contemplated and worked with, there is a  “Ruler” that guides material reality, not always for the best.  It’s not God, of course, but it acts as if it were, and appears as God to less-understanding entities.  It is “all powerful” in that it can prevent almost anyone, certainly anyone without the necessary qualifications, from participating in manifestation.  Already explained why that must be.

Unfortunately, power begets power and as intelligence expanded in the “created” (manifested) realms, some of these individual intelligences sought power. Since you can only express power by dictating to others, usually of lesser minds, these intelligences became totalitarian in nature and “evil” was born in, and bred from them, oozing right down to your own tin-pot rulers and dictators, right down to your school yard bully.  Down to your racist, your misogynist, your bigot.  Down to your greedy, planet-eating sociopathic corporate management.  Do you get the picture, Levi?”

 “Huh, yes, I’m sure that I get it. It’s not a subtle point you are making.  But now, where does that leave me?”

“Exactly where you are, or as you were if you choose to ignore this unexpected interference in your rather uneventful System-controlled life. But don’t you have a truck to drive up the road another hundred miles or so?”

 Out of habit I struck my forehead with my right hand. “Ah yes, the truck.  Well, it’s down the road about a half-hour’s walk.  Or maybe you can transport us there and fix it for me?”

 “Would you like me to do that?”

(No shit, I felt like saying. Instead I replied,) “Sure, why not?”

 And I thought to myself, well, that ought to be a good one. What happens next?

 That’s when I woke up. I mean I really woke up.  I could feel the heat, the stink of my sweat, feel the swelling of my feet in my boots.  Overhead the sun was still blazing at its zenith as if no time had passed.  I did notice a couple of things that were different.  I wasn’t thirsty nor hungry and I felt, well, completely blissful.  And then I noticed that my truck was parked just below me, without a flat, apparently ready to go on.  I shook my head and let the dizziness pass before I stood up and took another good look around.  No Jack.  Just the same empty countryside, and the river surface reflecting silver from the bottom of a very deep, dark canyon.  Silent as the grave.

Being a “child of the land” as they say, I looked around carefully for tracks in the sandy soil. Tthere were only mine which indicated the point where I sat down, then laid down.  Nothing had changed and everything had.  And the only witness I had that “Jack” had been there was my old pickup with four healthy tires and except for the cracking of cooling dissimilar metals rubbing angrily against each other under the hood, it wasn’t saying a word either.